


The Fall of Home

by Icedmochalester



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is lowkey a bitch, Alternate Universe - High School, Blackmail, Blow Job, Family Secrets, Fingering, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Homophobia, Lies, Love for the Wrong Reasons, Love in all the wrong places, M/M, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Secrets, Theatre, immigrant alexander, kinda angst, protect Johnny at all costs, some gang shit but you'll see, tease, theater geek john
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-10-16 06:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10565097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icedmochalester/pseuds/Icedmochalester
Summary: In which everything is great for JohnUntil Alexander comes and throws it far off track.Does he not see how John is hurting?





	1. Meet the New Kid and Mr. Panties in a Twist

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there, reader. This is my first Lams fanfiction I have tried to write. Though I've tried to write a full fanfiction before, I've never actually stuck to it unless it was a oneshot. So here ya go! I'm pretty sure this is something I'll be interested in for a while, and because the plot is slightly vague, it's very open ended so I can see myself doing a lot with this.
> 
> DISCLAIMER! If you're looking for a very cheesy and fast paced read, don't look here. There's gong to be a good amount of character development and care towards plot progression in this story. I've seen some very good and very shitty Lams fanfic in my times and I aim to craft this very well.
> 
> I'm always open to ideas and suggestions. If you'd be up to proofread chapters when I have them done, slide into my messages ;) actually even if you don't want to proofread you can slide into my messages let's freak out about Anthony's adorable freckles together.
> 
> ~ Abby x

John's POV

Adolescents bustle through the crowded hallways around school. I usually don't pay much mind to the other students around me as I float from class to class, but it's almost impossible to miss the change in mood from usual. There's more whispering and gossip slipping through people's lips; eyes dart around the halls frantically in search of whatever they're whispering of. After I get my history textbook from my locker, I swiftly shut the metal door and lock it.

I make my way to my next class and catch small fragments of the babble that has the whole school going.

"The new guy is soo hot!"

"He's honor roll, too."

"They say that he's an illegal immigrant; I wouldn't mix with him."

There are mixed opinions on, what seems to be, the new kid. If the other news I had heard before is true, he's a senior as well. I just hope that he doesn't turn out to be a jackass with an ego the size of Empire State Building.

I get to class early, as usual, and take a seat in my regular desk: right in the back of the room. More classmates begin to file in as minutes on the clock tick by. Normal faces pass in front of me, some acknowledging my presence and others not, but someone new catches my eye. Walking in with the captain of the Baseball team, Aaron Burr, is, who must be, the new kid. The guy is at most as tall as me (and probably even shorter). However, that doesn't stop him from walking the halls with confidence radiating around him. His long, chocolate brown hair is tied back in a ponytail, which shows off his tanned complexion that's just like the rest of his body. Toned muscles are prevalent under his tight, white t-shirt. Black skinny jeans finish off his look just right, as well as making his ass look mighty fine.

Though I'd really be up for slapping his ass real quick, I keep my flaming homosexual hormones at bay. This is a classy educational establishment.

Unfortunately, my good friend, Lafayette, sees my whole eye-raping endeavor, and gives me a wink and nudges me before plopping down in the seat to the right of me.

"How slick of you, Johnny Boy," Lafayette muses, causing me to blush like an overripe tomato.

"Get your head outa your ass, Laf," I mumble, punching the Frenchie playfully in the shoulder.

"What's in whose ass?" I hear a voice from next to me interject. "I need the details stat," Hercules laughs as he sits in the seat in front of me.

I want to sew Lafayette's lips shut when he chimes, "Laurens over here sure would like that new kid's dick up his ass."

"Yeah, and you're going to have my shoe up yours if you don't shut up soon," I threaten him and give him my best menacing glare, but him and Hercules just laugh it off. An exaggerated pout climbs its way up my face, making them laugh even harder. Thankfully, the two maniacs die down before the bell rings, signaling for class to begin. The teacher, Mr. Adams, walks in as the bell rings, and immediately scans the room for the new kid. When he does see him, he begins with his normal greeting.

"Good morning, class. If you didn't see already, we have a new student. So, if you'd like, go ahead, stand up and introduce yourself."

From two seats ahead of me, the new guy stands up while Aaron gives him a friendly punch of encouragement from next to him. He takes a deep breath, but then confidently smiles and starts, "Hi guys, my name is Alexander Hamilton, but just call me Alex. I'm from the Caribbean and I'm finishing my studies in the states on grant. It's a pleasure to be working with all of you."

At the end of his introduction, Alex flashes a grin that could literally melt any girl's heart into a puddle. Before he sits down, he looks me in the eyes and winks playfully.

"Shit," I think to myself, "he probably heard our conversation earlier."

I let it go, though, knowing that there isn't much we can do about it at this point. After Alex's introduction, class carries on as usual, with the "riveting" history lesson on the Revolutionary War. Throughout the entire lesson, I'm surprised to see Alex writing away in his notebook for his classes. He must be a lot more hard working than he comes off as.

I'm almost completely wasted away when I'm saved by the bell once again. It doesn't take me long to quickly shove all my belongings into the bag at my side and dart out the door to the sweet freedom of lunch period. Hercules and Lafayette are walking at a much slower pace behind me, but it's not my fault that I'm a growing boy who needs his nutrients. A kid's gotta eat.

After buying the shitty but miraculously cheap school lunch, I search for my partners at our normal table outside. Since it's finally turned to spring, we've reclaimed our outside table to eat and chat. Our table isn't the only one out here, though. A cluster of tables are stationed in the courtyard of the school, and Aaron Burr's, and now Alex's, table finds residence next to ours.

Lafayette spots me trying to find where they're sitting and waves me down. Quickly, I scurry over to the table and sit down next to Hercules and across from Laf.

"How's it going ladies?" I teasingly say to the guys next to me. Lafayette fakes hurt and kicks me under the table while Hercules just laughs at me while a small pain shoots up my shin. I playfully glare at Lafayette before we both start bursting out if fits of giggles.

We feel the glares of the students around us beating into our backs, but it isn't our fault that they don't know how to have fun. Their loss I say. In particular, a particular wannabe Frenchie calls out from his table to us, "Shut up, you theatre geeks, before I come over there and make you shut up myself."

"Oh no! I'm so frightened," Lafayette retorts sarcastically. "Jefferson, if you would, please, shut up, go home, and pull your damn pants up. It would be much appreciated." Herc and I both laugh at Laf's In the Heights reference.

Thomas looks like he's about ready to blow, but James Madison, who is sitting next to him, puts his hand on Jefferson's shoulder, holding him back slightly. It seems that Jefferson came to his senses and, reluctantly I might add, sat down, still glaring at our whole table. When he knows that no one's going to come and fight him, satisfied, Laf sits down, grinning like a madman. I reach over the table to give him a high five, and he smugly accepts.

Thankfully, the rest of lunch goes without interruptions from Mr. Panties in a Twist and friends, but I keep sensing someone from that table glancing in my direction every once and a while. I turn around a couple times to see who was looking at me, but every time, there was no one.

After lunch ends, I float from class to class until the end of the day. Unfortunately, I don't share any other classes with Laf or Herc in the second half of the day, because my electives are scheduled then. My last block, theatre arts and creative writing, comes as quick as I hoped. The arts have always been my thing. Though the way Jefferson stated this earlier, it doesn't make it any less true. It kind of sucks, though, that Herc and Lafayette aren't in my class this year.

To my surprise, however, I find out the Alexander shares this class with me as well. I'm already sitting in my seat when he walks in. He's stealing glances at me constantly as he sits in the open seat next to me, but whenever he catches me staring at him, I look away quickly and try to look like I'm staring at something else. Depend on me to make an utter fool of my unsociable self.

I didn't know until now that Alex was interested in writing and plays and such. He does seem like the type to enjoy a good book or so. Kudos to him for having taste.

"Hello, class," Mr. Washington starts, signaling for the class to quiet down, "Now, I think you all have noticed the new kid, Alexander, but I'm not going to hound him to introduce himself, because he's probably done enough of that today."

The class chuckles at his remark, but I only see Alex give a small sigh and a sad smile. That isn't something I would expect from him; he comes off a lot more of an outgoing front when he's with Burr and the others.

"Well then, today, we'll be starting our final quarter project," Mr. Washington states, causing some cheers, but also some groans in the mix. "This will also be a partner project. It can be done alone, but it's not recommended because of the heavy workload and difficulty."

Lots of people look towards their friends who share the class, but I don't bother. I'd rather work alone anyways.

"Don't get so excited yet, students. You don't even know what the assignment is. You are to take a story – whether it be a classic or a modern piece – and rewrite it into a play script with your own personality and twist. Not only will you write this, but at the end of the year, you will perform your work in front of the class for a final grade."

This excites most of the class, but my stomach sinks like a rock when I hear "performance." I'm the type to stay in the background you know? It's easier for me to work out of the spotlight. My face must visibly pale, because out of the corner of my eye, Alexander looks at me with an unreadable expression.

"If you are going to have a partner, I will need to know this Friday. I'll be asking for partner names in class, so you have another four days to figure this out," Mr. Washington clarifies, but then continues on, talking about all the requirements for the project. By no means is this going to be an easy task.

For the rest of class, Mr. Washington shows us different examples and ideas for what we could do for a project, but I already have an idea in mind. Excited murmurs float through the room throughout the entire class, and before any of us know it, the bell rings, signaling the end of the school day.

Quickly, I collect all my things and disorderly shove them into my bag, trying to make my way out of the room as swiftly as possible. Usually, I would try to meet up with Lafayette and Herc after school, but both of them were busy today, which sucks, but I'll live.

My plan to make a swift getaway fail completely when there's already a buzzing swarm of students trying to shove themselves out the small doorway at once. I refrain from shoving to get my way past and stick to the back of the stampede. Earlier, Alexander seemed like he wanted to talk to me, which would explain that we was trying to quickly pack his stuff to make his way towards me. Thankfully, Mr. Washington calls back to him, telling Alex that he wants to talk to him. He does this right before Alexander was able to talk to me. My ass has been saved by Mr. Washington once again.

While Alexander is talking to the teacher, the doorway clears up and I'm able to escape out into the flooded hallway. I take a deep breath and let out a sigh of relief; I've escaped the homosexual eternal damnation once again. I shall live to see tomorrow.

"John! Wait up!" A voice calls from behind me, as well as some heavy breathing. I turn around to see Alexander frantically running to catch up with me.

He has a pretty voice. "Yes, Alexander?" I ask slowly, quietly.

"Would you like to partner up with me on that project?" Alex asks, looking hopeful.

Well, there goes my pants, my will to live, and my ticket out of hell.


	2. All I Wanted Was Just Some Fried Plantain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been a while since I've uploaded on AO3. However, I have actually been putting in lots of time for this fic. If you didn't know, I usually upload chapters to my Wattpad account. I have my stories on both platforms, but I post the chapters there first. When I do post chapters to this account, they will be uploaded in big bunches of three to five chapters. Today though, I have six to upload. I kind of forgot that I even uploaded the first chapter here haha. Forgive me, guys.  
> Abby x

“No,” I tell Alexander, and his face immediately falls. Damn it now I’ll feel bad for the rest of the day. 

I begin to walk away again, but Alex stops me with his words, “Wait! Why not? I didn’t think you had a partner anyways.” 

“I prefer to work alone.” 

Alexander groans loudly and then jogs to catch up to me once again. “You heard Mr. Washington. He said it’s a better idea to work in groups.” 

“Well, I’m not very good in groups,” I snap back, making Alex stop in his tracks, eyes widened. Seeing that I had took him by surprise, I decide to elaborate with, “I’m just not comfortable working with people that I don’t know very well.” 

Instead of how I thought Alexander react, a mischievous grin creeps up his face. 

“Well then,” Alexander chimes, grinning from ear to ear, “I’ll just have to make you very comfortable with me by the end of this week.” 

If I was drinking tea right now, it would have spat out over the floor about now. I try to throw out a sly comeback, but I’m a stuttering mess at Alex’s words. Out from his hands, he reveals a bunched up sticky note. He takes my hand and places the sticky note in my palm.

“Call me some time,” Alex says, throwing me a playful wink before a genuine smile finds its way to both my face and his. I still don’t reply to him, but before I have time to embarrass myself even more, he bids me a farewell. “See you tomorrow, Laurens.” 

He’s already turned on his heels, heading towards the door when I reply so soft I can barely hear myself, “Nice to meet you too, Alexander Hamilton.” 

 

“Hey Jacky,” A deep voice calls out from the living room when I open the front door. 

I shout back as I make my way towards the staircase to my room, “Hi, Dad. You’re home early today.” 

I can just hear the smile in his voice as he yells to me when I get farther and farther up the stairs, “I took the rest of the day off to spend with you, bud. I need a break anyways, so might as well use it.” 

I love my dad, I really do, but Jesus Christ, is he a workaholic. It’s great to hear that after months of pleading for him to take a break, he’s finally taking some time off. My dad is the CEO of a large fashion company for men. Long periods without break and lots of business trips are in the job description. I get used to him not being around, but with mom not around either, it does get lonely sometimes. 

“Can we go out to eat then, tonight?” I ask hopefully, praying that Dad can actually hear me from upstairs. 

“Sure thing, Jacky. Let’s go to your favorite at 7:30,” I hear from downstairs, making me grin. I still have another three-ish hours before we leave, so I get cracking on my homework. 

I get fidgety after an hour of death by textbooks, so I open up my phone and take out the little sticky note in my pocket. I unfold the crumpled sticky note and it reads:   
Call me if you wanna get coffee sometime,   
Alexander xo 

By this, Alexander is either hella gay, or hella determined to be friends with me. Neither of these would actually happen, so I try not to think about too much. However much I try, the number on the bottom of the paper keeps calling my name. 

Although I’m tempted to take him up on his offer right now, I’ve got stuff to do, and I don’t need another person to deal with right now. Instead, I just create a contact for his number. His name is now Distraction (Alex H.) just so I keep it real up in here. Now all I need now is sunglasses and an explosion behind me; I’ll be the real savage on this street. 

The street don’t mess with ol’ Jacky boy. 

After about another hour and a half of “studying”, I look at the clock and choose to get ready for dinner sooner rather than later. I slip on some nicer black skinny jeans and a maroon, button-up dress shirt. My grey Vans are next to my door, so I grab them and slide them on snuggly. Finally, I put the rest of the birds nest on my head into a half- up bun. 

“Dad! I’m ready to go when you are,” I yell downstairs to Dad, since I didn’t ever hear him come upstairs. 

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” I faintly hear from the living room followed by a sigh, “I just need to finish this presentation for a conference.” 

Internally, I groan at this response. He never rests, does he? For once, I wish he would take a good break and rest. Fatigue is prominent on his face when he’s home, and that’s when he’s actually home and not on a business trip. Although I wish I could force my dad to take a break, it’s really not my business. It’s his way of coping and I shouldn’t need to stop him. 

I wait another ten minutes on my bed scrolling through social media before I hear my dad call out to me from downstairs, “Let’s go now, Jacky! We gotta get there before it gets too crowded.” 

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Don’t’ get your pantyhose in a twist,” a laugh as I skip through the main hallway to the front door. This earns me a good shove by the old man with a horrible fake angry expression. I let out an overly exaggerated gasp and play the “are you abusing your favorite child?” face. 

A small chuckle escapes my dad’s lips, but then he composes himself and carries on with, “Let’s get in the car, Jacky.” 

With that, we drive to out to get some food. 

 

El Fuego: the best fucking Caribbean food in all of New York, I’m telling you. It’s a smaller restaurant around maybe ten minutes away from my house. Let me tell you, those ten minutes are the most dreadful ten minutes of my life. Why? Because I’m not stuffing my face with fish platters and fried plantain. 

Thankfully, because it’s a Monday, not many people are eating out, so my dad and I are able to get a table when we walk in. Dad put’s his coat around the back of his chair and we both sit down to look at the menu. I flip through the laminated pages of the menu, even though I know exactly what I’m ordering: jerk chicken with a side of fried plantain. A waiter comes to take our order and I definitely wasn’t expecting the man himself to be working here. 

“Welcome to El Fuego! I’m Alexander and I’ll,” Alex says cheerily until he sees who is sitting in the seat in front of him; he stutters a bit, but continues, “be your waiter tonight.”   
He gives his infamous heart-melting smile, though I know this one is just for a show. To keep things from being too awkward, I give a small smile back to him. Alexander starts again with, “Can I get any drinks for you two tonight?” 

“I’ll have unsweetened ice tea with lemon,” Dad orders, and then looks to me, waiting to hear my order. 

“I-I’ll just have some water, thank you,” I manage to stutter out, only slightly making myself look like a complete fool. 

Alex writes down both of our drink orders, and then concludes, “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a few with your drinks.” He smiles at me before leaving to get our drinks. 

“So, do you know that kid?” Dad asks me once Alex is out of earshot. 

I can’t describe his face. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen from him before. There’s a lack of emotion on his face. Based on this face, he either has a great winning streak in poker from that goddamn poker face, or whatever his reaction is will be unpredictable. I really hope it isn’t the latter. 

“He’s new to school, and he’s in a couple of my classes. We’re not really friends or anything. We’re acquaintances I guess you could say,” I reply, trying to word myself carefully. Setting Dad off in a restaurant would be hell on earth. 

“Good,” he grunts, low and without feeling to be read. “Stay away from that kid, Jacky.” 

Confused, I ask, “Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Just do as I say, John!” Dad says, raising his voice. The whole restaurant turns their heads to view what is going on. 

I was going to retaliate, but I stop myself, and shrink back, too scared to say anything. Dad sees how much he’s scared me, and sighs, saying, “Leave some money on the table for the drinks. We’re going home.” 

Not wanting to make him act up again, I put ten dollars on the table and get up, trailing behind Dad with my head looking to the ground. 

After we get home, I go up to my room without another word to Dad. I sit on my bed, staring at the ceiling, for a good hour before I decide to sit up and try to make myself useful. Key word is “try”. I don’t have any homework left to do, so subconsciously, I find myself clicking my way through my phone until I come upon Alex’s contact. I’m tempted to call him and apologize for earlier, but I know I would start stuttering and not know what to say. Instead, I play it safe, and I decide to text him. 

Me : Hey it’s John from school 

Me : How does coffee after school tomorrow sound to you? 

Almost instantly, Alexander replies to my text. 

Sounds good to me! : Distraction (Alex) 

See ya then ;) : Distraction (Alex) 

Well, I already know tomorrow’s going to be one hell of a long day, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. Sometimes, I just gotta wait and see what’s in store; I never know what’s going to happen. All I can do is hope I live to see morning light, and that’s what I think about as I fall asleep, exhausted from today’s earlier events. Maybe this is just what I needed: sleep.


	3. The Tea Will Be Spilled

Tuesday passes by me like a bullet train. Jefferson trying to pick a fight with Nathaniel Pendleton was about as interesting as the day got. Thankfully, the last class of the day is the most tolerable class with the most tolerable teacher. 

“Good afternoon, class,” Mr. Washington starts as he walks into the room. A chorus of hellos rings through the room. “Today we’ll be discussing some common differences between classic and modern musical theatre…” 

After a good five or ten minutes, I’m completely tuned out of the lesson. I know I shouldn’t be, but I got the worst sleep ever last night. Tossing and turning were constant. It kind of felt like when your whole body is cold except for your feet, which are burning. It felt like that kind of uncomfortable, Fun, I know. 

The problem is that I know it wasn’t just because my feet felt like they were dancing in Hell. Last night, all I could think about is what I was going to say to Alexander today. How could I explain what was going on if I don’t even know what happened myself? I’ve never seen my dad as angry as he was last night. Usually, I get the scolding after we leave the place we’re in, but never in the building. I always thought that was an unspoken rule in my household: don’t inconvenience others for the sake of yourself. 

I guess not, though. 

The clock slowly moves its hands as the seconds tick by. Thankfully, I’m not called on the whole class period, because we all known that there’s other shit on my mind. Too much for me to care about the difference between ancient comedy and tragedy. My eyes close, and I’m about ready to fall asleep in my seat. I guess I do because I bounce up at the sound of the ringing of that blasted bell that triggers a stampede to get up out of the seats around me. Quickly, I look around to see if anyone noticed me sleeping, but no one decides to comment, so I carry on my merry way. 

Again, I’m the last one to make it out the classroom. By the time I’m able to pack all my things away, the hallways are quite a bit clearer, due to the known fact that people don’t want to rot in hell longer than needed. A deep breath escaped through my lip when I turn to walk towards my locker. 

“Wow, after that rejection yesterday, I didn’t think you’d be this relieved to see me.” 

Fuck I forgot about him. 

Alexander is standing in front of me, leaning on the lockers next to the door of the classroom. He’s grinning widely, mischief toying in his pupils. 

“I was relieved to get out Hell, but then I saw there was a dwarf blocking the way,” I retort with a short-lived grin. 

Alexander puts on a face of fake pain. “After all of these hours that have passed, you’re telling me that my height is why you despise me?” 

“Sure, sure, Alexander. Don’t worry that’s not the only thing,” I chuckle. Looking at my phone for the time, I continue, “We should hear to the shop right now before it gets too late. I need to... elaborate.” 

The mentioning of last night’s events definitely sobers Alex, because his face turns serious, and steps to the side. “After you,” he forces out slightly. 

I do as he suggests, and make my way towards the main doors of the school with Alex trailing behind me. 

 

Because it’s after school, the cramped coffee shop is nearly full to the brim with people coming from class. Small groups of girls crowd around the small coffee tables, sipping on their green-tea-vanilla-whatever-shit, and probably using the wifi here just to check their Instagram notifications. Unlike those people, some are actually working on their computer, maybe doing homework, or maybe writing a blog. Who really knows? 

The damn millennials. I’m telling you. 

Thankfully, in the far corner of the cozy shop, there’s a small table to fit two people. Alex and I set our bags down at the table, and we both get up to walk to the counter to place our orders. I’m about to tell Alex to sit down when he says, “What do you want? I’ll go and order.” 

Feeling a bit guilty, I retaliate, “Nope. I’m buying. It’s the least I can do after yesterday night.” 

Before I can even finish, Alex butts in, “No, It’s alright. I invited you in the first place,” he gives me a playful grin. “It’s the least I can do for the first date.” 

Well yikes. My imaginary tea is spat out and spilled all over the floor. I feel bad for those imaginary cleaning guys with their imaginary knee problems. 

I shoot a deathly glare Alexander’s way, but I still give him my order: an iced coffee with creamer. While I wait for him to come back with our coffees, I get a bit of time to think over what I’m going to say to him. Truthfully, I don’t really know what happened myself. Even though I know I’m probably going to mess up what I’m going to say, I try to some up with, at least, something. 

After a few long, dragged minutes, Alexander comes back to our table. I sit back up and lift my chin off the palms of my hands. He puts my steaming drink in front of me, and I carefully pick it up with two hands, being careful to not drip any on my clothes. Alex’s drink is placed directly across from me, where his seat is. I can feel him looking at me when he sits down, so I quickly look down at my coffee, trying to avoid his eyes at all costs. The last thing I want to do is create an awkward atmosphere, but I know that’s exactly what’s going to happen. 

“So…” Alex starts after a long few minutes and a long sip of coffee, “You were saying that you wanted to walk about last night?” 

I clear my throat slightly. “Yeah, actually. I kind of wanted to apologize about my dad’s… outburst, I guess,” I stutter out. Alexander is definitely listening intently. It’s like he’s dissecting every word I’m saying like a science experiment. After taking a small breath, I carry on. “I can’t really tell what happened either. To be honest, I’m about as clueless as you are in this situation. My dad’s never really done anything such as then. However, I’d still like to apologize about that; it’s not okay to disrupt other’s people’s dinners like that.” 

Alexander takes some time to ponder my apology. I fold my hands in my lap and chew my lip out of habit. The lack of words exchanged between us is somewhat nerve-wracking. Eventually, Alexander lets out a sigh, but then a small chuckle and a devious smirk. It’s the kind of smirk that sends shivers creeping up you back, giving you goosebumps. 

“You know,” he starts slowly, “that outburst did cause the restaurant a quite a bit of grief.” I try to put on a hard face, but my eyes definitely give away the tinge of fear running through my veins. “Lots of customers ended up complaining about the disruption. Many even asked for free meals to compensate. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think a small apology can repay the money and time wasted.” 

“If you want money as compensation, I can pay for the meals,” I start, trying to not work Alex up anymore. 

“Oh no, no, no. Not just money will do. You can’t repay the time customers wasted with mere dollar bills,” Alexander continues again, but with a bit more aggravation seeping into his words. “I believe that the worst thing you could ever waste is somebody’s time. There’s only one way to repay that.” 

I know where this is going, and I really don’t like it either. 

“Would you like to know how you’re going to repay me, John?” Alexander asks with a demon’s smirk on his face. 

I gulp, my leg bouncing on the floor. 

“You’re now going to dedicate your time to working for me.” 

Yikes. There’s the bomb. 

I’m pretty sure I’m visibly quaking in my shoes. No one could guess that Alexander could be this intimidating. On the outside, he literally looks like a marshmallow, but behind that façade, this bitch could cut you with his straight, white teeth. 

I don’t respond, but I think Alexander gets the memo that I heard what he said, so he continues, “Starting tomorrow until graduation, you’ll be my assistant, and you will do anything I tell you to do. If you don’t, well, let’s just say that there’s a lot of tea to be spilled about you. I’ve got resources, and let’s just say I’m not afraid to use them.” 

Here I am, frozen in my seat, staring at the wall across the room, scared shitless by Alexander. I never respond to him, but he gets up, and softly grunts out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, John Laurens.” A wide grin spreads from ear to ear on his face. He turns away to head to the door, walking with a small sway. 

Before he completely gets to the door and exits, he shouts, “Don’t forget tomorrow, John!” 

Then he leaves me with a cold coffee and shaking hands, unable to muster the courage to even wish the next day never come. 

How the hell did I even end up here?


	4. Alexander and the Staring Contest

Because it's just my luck, before I even am able to step into school, Alexander catches up to me. I hear the rapid, jogging footsteps drawing nearer and nearer from behind me, so I start to pick up the pace. I had a good idea of who it was, and I wasn't about to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter. This hoe don't deserve my ass, so I ain't gonna let him rule over me this easily. 

Apparently, my speed walking wasn't Olympic worthy, so Alex-blander-than-dry Ham-ilton grabs my shoulder, causing me to stop. By reaction, I immediately tense up and curl my fists up into a ball. 

"Finally," Alex starts, heaving slightly from the run, "I caught up to you. Why do you walk so fast, John?" 

"I think the real question here is why you lack the physical strength to jog one hundred yards, Alexander," I retort, basically spitting his name back at him. 

Alex gives a childish pout and furrows his brows. "I don't think that's very nice, John. Is that any way to treat your boss?” 

I'm pretty sure the sassy child in front of me can see that I'm seething, because after my silence, he only shoots me a sly smirk. While groaning at his behavior, I turn on my heels and keep walking to the front entrance before I'm late for class. 

 

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m completely exhausted. It’s hard trying to avoid someone for hours on end, if you didn’t know already. I take my normal outside with Lafayette and Herc. It’s been a few days since I had been able to properly talk with them. I’ve had the dry ham keeping me busy. 

“So, how’s life, hotshot?” Lafayette says to me. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes; I can tell he knows where I’ve been lately, but he clearly doesn’t know what’s been doing… around, I guess. 

As if on cue, Mr. Hamilton with annoyingly perfect ass walks outside to sit at his table with Burr. He sits down with a light bounce and turns around to look at me. I’m still looking at him while, so Alex gives me a wide grin, but I just glare back. Hopefully my distaste for his presence is sensed, but if it is, he shows no signs of being affected by it. Instead, a low chuckle is released from him, and he turns around and joins the already ensued conversation at his table. 

Now, I’m really wondering if anyone was able to catch on with my obvious displeasure because I feel Hercules nudge me a few times and Lafayette laughing a bit. I roll my eyes at their behavior and turn back to my food. 

“I see that you’ve caught the eye of Mr. Alexander over there. Huh?” Hercules chimes. 

My obvious distaste shows, but I still retaliate, “That prick could live on the space station and I’d jump for joy.” 

“Well damn,” Lafayette cuts in, his ever-plastered grin widening, “What about him has your thong in a twist?” 

“Or wet,” Herc lets out with obnoxiously loud “cough”. 

Not really up for explaining the situation (not that I would have been willing to in the first place), I just desist the conversation with, “Very funny guys, but I can’t help that his personality is as likeable as toxic waste on your pasta.” 

Both Lafayette and Herc both hold their hands up in defeat, laughing as they do. When they both calm their man tits, Laf asks on a serious note, “But really, what made a change of heart? You were drooling at the sight of his face just these past days.” 

I bite my lip slightly. There’s hardly any truth to avoid, but I find myself trying to cover the facts. “We’re partners in theatre class for the quarter project, and let’s just say that he doesn’t get much done.” 

Lafayette raises his eyebrow and gives me a small grin with a suggestive chuckle. Thankfully, though, neither of the two push me over the edge I’m already walking. Both know that when I’m pissed, you don’t push me to the brink. They’re standing in the eye of my hurricane. I’m just a breakdown waiting to happen and a fuse waiting to melt. 

 

My floating from class to class goes fairly well during the second half of the day. Usually, many people do not bother me; everyone’s in such a rush that no one cares to pay attention to the ones who float. Today, however, a certain headass decides to join me on my walk to my eighth hour. 

I don’t even need to turn around to know who tapped on my shoulder. Taking a deep breath through my nose and closing my eyes, I sigh and start, “Is there anything you need, Alexander?” 

“Yes actually,” Alexander plasters on a wide, showy grin, “I was wondering if I could walk with you to our class.” 

His statement is turning heads, also known as exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I look him in the eye, and it’s quite clear the answer he’s looking for. In his expression swims his dark, selfish undertones that I oh-so-dearly hate. There’s no need for me to actually respond, so just turn around to keep walking, and, just as I thought, Alex catches up to walk beside me. 

I can’t stand how Alexander acts as if nothing of this seems off. He carries on his merry way, waving at people he passes in the halls while I’m right next to him. I can’t stand how he acts like he’s the shit, and I can’t stand that everyone think so too. It’s times like this when I wonder, “Is Alexander trying to make me suffer, or is he actually this ill-mannered and lack the basics of common societal norms?” 

Either way, I can’t stand his very presence, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. 

And that’s what terrifies me. 

I might be a hurricane, but goddamn, is Alexander Hamilton the eye. 

 

As he has for the whole week, Mr. Washington starts out class by asking, “Okay, does anyone have a partner picked out today?” 

Even though he asks, most people have either already told him the pairing, or are waiting till last minute Friday to get a partner However, Alexander decides that he’d proclaim his partner, and I think we all know who that is (cue coughing). 

“Yes, Mr. Hamilton?” Mr. Washington calls on Alex, with a cheery smile on his face, looking him straight in the eyes. 

“Yeah, my partner for the project is John Laurens,” Alexander replies with a charming smile that could melt a heart if you didn’t know what’s behind it. 

Mr. Washington raises an eyebrow at Alexander’s exclamation, but then he turns to me. I gave him a blank stare, even though I know he wants my input. Thankfully, he starts me off, “Is this true, Mr. Laurens?” 

With all my rapidly beating heart, I want to scream out, “FUCK NO GET ME AWAY”, I glance towards Alex. His face has morphed from that charming smile to a dead serious stare that is, frankly, unnerving. I know the answer he wants me to give, and I know he knows that as well. My palms sweat as I swallow my pride. 

“Yes,” I mumble out with a weak smile, “Mr. Washington. We’re partners.” 

The teacher looks skeptical of our pairing, but he doesn’t test it. He must know that I rejected Alexander’s offer the first time I asked, granted I was right outside his door when I said, “No.” 

Mr. Washington then carries on with the rest of the lesson, but throughout the whole class period, I could feel Alex’s stare boring into the side of my head. I don’t know why he was watching me the whole time, and I kind of don’t want to find out. I have enough problems on my hands, and I don’t need another. 

Time ticks by on the clock, and slowly but surely, the bell rings as it does every day. I try as hard as humanly possible to get out of the classroom before Mr. Washington could call me over. However, my lucky boxers just don’t seem to be working today, and I hear from behind me, “Can I talk to you for a moment, Mr. Laurens?” 

I stop in my tracks, and twist on my toes, doing a 180 degrees spin. Trying to hide my clearly visible nerves, I try to put on a more confused face. I ask, “Is there anything you needed, Mr. Washington?” 

He pauses and doesn’t answer for a few seconds, and in those seconds, I’m dreading the ones after. Eventually, he asks with pure concern in his eyes, “Is everything alright, John? You don’t seem very keen on working with Alexander. You even rejected him on Monday, and I’ve never seen you change your mind.” 

I give a small, but convincing smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Washington. Alexander and I are getting along quite fine, and we work well together. On Monday, I jumped to conclusions about him too quickly,” I reassure the teacher. 

It seems that I have convinced Mr. Washington for the time being. “Alright, John. I know you’re a hard worker, but just remember that I am willing to let you drop your partner if anything does go wrong with Alexander.” 

Before I excuse myself from the classroom, I give the teacher a slight head nod and thank you. Quickly, I ready myself to make a quick escape to home, but there’s a road block in the way, standing right in front of my locker. 

“Do you need something, Alexander?” I try to keep my cool when saying this, but I’m pretty sure that my sheer displeasure for his presence leaks through. 

“How are you John?” Alexander inquires, giving me a toothy grin. Not many people litter the hallways at the moment, so we’re alone for the most part. Suddenly, the grin he shows disappears into a hollow, devious smirk. There’s a thirst for murder in his eyes, and I could only hope that he doesn’t act on such desires. “So, I heard that Mr. Washington called you in to talk about our partnership.” 

I gulp and my hold my breath. Alexander has a small frame and soft features, but Lord knows that he’d be able to cut a bitch in 0.2 seconds if needed. Let’s just hope that that isn’t the case right now. 

“I’m very intrigued with what you had to say to him, so tell me. What exactly did you say to the old man?” 

His brown eyes inspect every single small movement I make as if I’m under surveillance, and he’s the guard on shift. I know he can tell if I lie, so what choice do I have?   
Exactly, I don’t have one.   
“He asked me if I was comfortable working with you and if I was okay, because I had declined your offer on Monday,” I babble, rapidly spit firing words, not caring if I make that much sense.   
“And how did you reply, may I ask?” Alexander’s soft yet cynical tone nearly sends me into a panic attack. 

“I just said that I judged you too quickly and that you’re actually a nice guy and…” I start speaking more gibberish out of pure nerves. Abruptly, Alexander puts his finger up to my lips, signaling for me to stop speaking and listen. 

“Good boy,” He starts with, patting my head slightly. “I know you’re telling the truth; I can tell.”

That’s one of the most relieving statements I’ve ever heard. I let out a sigh, but make it only slightly noticeable to Alexander. 

“It’s a good thing too,” Alex starts again. This time though, my heart rate slows back down only to beat a mile a minute the next. I’m pushed against the lockers and held by my collar. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your pretty, little face before I absolutely need to. Anyways, you know what’s best for you.” 

At this point, he lets go of my collar and I fall to the ground, my knees giving out below me. 

“Just remember, John. If you step out of line, you’ll be ruined. Not only will you be dragged out of the closet, but you’ll have every single goddamn hair plucked off you scalp on the goddamn way.” 

I sit on the floor, unsure what to say or how to respond. Frankly, how does anyone respond to that in the first place? 

Terrifyingly quickly, Alexander’s smirk turns back into his normal, charming, toothy grin. However, instead of sweeping me off my feet, it’s making me fall with fear. 

“Until tomorrow,” Alexander concludes, always getting the goddamn last word, “I bid you adieu.” 

Then he leaves me, on the dusty school hallway, soaking in tears I didn’t even know fell.


	5. This Really Makes Me Question My Financial State

Somehow, even after all of this time, Alex's phone number was still in my phone. It's not like I subconsciously want to keep it there. Hell, the best would be if I'd be able to pull the "new phone who dis" joke. Fate, however, sees my life as a joke. So when a certain headass calls me, I know that if I don't answer, sudden death would lay upon me.   
Maybe fate is looking out for me after all. 

The phone on my bedside table makes an alarmingly loud noise but then starts to play that one song by Jake Paul that people seem to be freaking out about. Well, at least I was able to find a song that fits his personality: cocky with a dash of asshole.  
As much as I hate the guy, I pick up the phone and put it to my ear. 

"Hey, baby girl. What're doing?" I hear through the phone. I already have the overwhelming urge to throw my phone at the wall and escape my fate by moving to Vegas. We all know that I don't have the guts to do that move. 

"I swear to God, Alexander. If you call me that again, you better have your location on," I reply, almost growling at the speaker. 

Alexander lets out a devilish chuckle. It rings through my ear, and I can even picture the sly smirk playing on his face. “Oh how sweet of you, baby. You want to see me that badly?” I give an exhausted groan through the phone, and I make sure that I’m loud enough to hurt someone’s ear. “Come on, Johnny. You can’t hate me that much, can you?” 

“Well, I could answer that statement, but I think a physical exhibit of force met to you pretty little face would get the point across much better.” 

“You know you love me,” Alexander whines playfully. It’s as if he’s a little child right next to me pulling on my sweater. “I didn’t call just to mess with you, though.” 

A scoff escapes my lips, and I retort, “Well isn’t that a first? I’ll need to buy a cake and party hats pronto.” 

“I’m always up for cake, John. Maybe you should keep that in mind,” Alexander keeps up our banter, but I think that he’s enjoying it while I’m just frustrated. “But that’s not what I’m wanting to talk about. We need to arrange a time to work on that project for Mr. Washington’s class.” 

Oh. That. 

I guess it’s just another excuse to spend more time with Alexander. 

What good news!... 

“Yeah, um. So, when would you want to do that anyways?” I ask. “I’m quite busy on most days after school.” 

“It’s not good to lie to yourself, John. I know you have no extracurricular activities with school,” Alexander mocks with a playful, but hell of an annoying, tone. A deep scowl creeps its way into the far corners of my mouth. 

“Anyways,” Alexander starts again, after a small pause for my nonexistent reply, “I was thinking that you could some over to my place to brainstorm ideas. After all, you’d probably never want me to step into your personal bubble. I’m a respectable person like that.” 

The cocky smirk that I get to see way too much even protrudes through phone calls. Damn, it makes me sick. “You’re also quite the airhead too, but I won’t point that out.” 

I can almost picture Alexander bringing out his pouting lip and kicked puppy eyes. “Don’t be like that, babe.” 

I scowl and narrow my eyes, even though I can’t actually see him. I’ve seen so much of the guy that his face is carved into my mind. And that isn’t a nice thing. Sighing, I tell him grumbling, “Fine, we can work at your house Friday night at six. Just don’t say anything about it to your friends; most of them want to rip my head off as it is.” 

“Talk less, smile more,” he teases. “Not sure if that wish will come true, but I can try my hardest.” 

We both know that the likelihood of Alexander keeping his mouth shut about the situation is less likely than George Eacker ever actually getting laid. All I can do at this point is wait and hope that this kid knows his limits and that crossing mine is the last thing he wants to do. 

 

The time that passes between that phone call and Friday are very monotonous. My old, daily routine that I used to motion through constantly kicks my ass now. Taking out Alexander frustrations in a pillow ought to keep anyone busy for a good couple of hours. I could have been studying for exams, but nope. Emotions and I seem to always have an ongoing feud that no one knows how to end. 

On most Fridays, I’d be anticipating getting out of school and sitting on the couch while binging Bates Motel. However, today I have to spend a perfectly fine night with Alexander and work on a project that he will most likely make me do alone. 

Not an ideal Friday night as you can see. 

As I walk home after school, I receive a text from Satan himself. 

Satan Himself: 

Here’s my address for tonight. Be there around 6:30 

Satan Himself: 

54921 Sherwood St. 

Satan Himself: 

Don’t be late 

Me: 

Of course, your Royal Highness. You want any gravy with that? 

Satan Himself: 

Just don’t be late my family will be over. 

I don’t respond to him after that. I leave him on read like the evil person I am, but he kept pestering me, so I guess he deserves it. Whoops. 

To check the time, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. It reads 4:25, so I still do have time until I have to leave for Alexander’s house. Thankfully, I know where Sherwood Street is roughly, and it’s near where I live for the most part. 

I take this extra time to finish Advanced Algebra and Chem homework because we all know that that shit takes forever. I might as well get a start in it while I can. We all know how fun parabolas are, don’t we? 

When the clock reaches 5:45, I pull my heavy legs off my bed and walk to the closet to change out of my pajamas and into streetwear. After pulling my favorite Thrasher hoodie over my white t-shirt and black jeans, I look in the mirror on my door. To be honest with you, I look like I’m ready for death. The lack of sleep I’ve been getting lately is almost worrying, and it’s definitely showing. My, usually quite tan, face is so pale, I’d probably be mistaken for a ghost if a stranger didn’t look hard enough. Those people would be looking at me like I’m the second coming of Jesus. 

No, and I wouldn’t let them touch my hands. That’s just weird. 

Instead of dwelling on the fact that I could pass as Nico di Angelo, I sleep on some trainers and head out the door to walk to head to Satan’s dwelling. 

 

The walk to that address takes a bit longer than expected. There was a turtle on the side of the road that I helped. Other than that, the walk there is smooth and uneventful just like how I wish my life was at the moment. Google maps (yes this bitch) told me to take a right into the rich neighborhoods. The road that I turn on is one that I used to pass by, but I never really thought to glance in and see what was inside. 

Whoever lives in these homes must either be lottery winners or neurosurgeons because no normal person with an average job would ever be able to afford these estates. Clean cut lawns and shrubs in pristine shape line the roads while hired workers wash every window. That’s a high life, I’m telling you. Time passes quickly as I walk past house upon house, squinting to find the address numbers at the top of each long driveway. 

Eventually, I find Alexander’s address. With my throbbing, strained eyes, I stroll up his driveway to his doorstep. In the back of my mind, I hope that this isn’t his house because, for Christ’s sake, I feel underdressed just standing in front of the doorway. I contemplate opening to door for a good five minutes, pacing on the doorway. I know that it won’t be a jolly old time, but my whole grade relied on this project. I have to do it right, and there’s no turning back now. Alex and I are committed partners; I can’t drop out. 

My hands knocking against the broad, wooden door only generate a weak sound, but if Alexander is in the living room, he should be able to hear me. After waiting for some two minutes, I ring the doorbell next to the doorway. When I do, the machine lets out a loud chime that sounds throughout the house. 

“Hold on, I’m coming!” I hear Alexander grumble from behind the door. A few seconds after his reluctant reply, a series of locks and clicks sound from the other side. I’m telling you, this place is reeks of wealth. 

When Alex opens the door, I’m surprised, quite frankly, to see him dressed in a fancy dress shirt and khaki pants. He looks relieved when he sees me standing in the doorway. Hand in hand with his reaction, he sighs with new ease and starts, “Thank God it’s just you. I swear if it was my family, I would have been ready to punch a wall or some shit. Thanks for saving my beautiful knuckles, babe.” 

There’s probably a wide grin traveling to the wide corners of Alexander’s mouth, but I’m in too much awe to actually be aware of it. 

If you think that the description of the outside oozes wealth, then the inside of these houses will look like the goddamn queen of England owns the estate. Everything in the front room looks so polished that I could use it as a mirror. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the items in this room are worth more than my entire checking account.   
Chandeliers made of crystal dangle from the center of the room with the light reflecting off each and every way. The dark hardwood floors are covered with different faux sheepskins of various sizes. I take off my shoes at the front door out of politeness, but deep down, I know it’s because I didn’t want Alexander’s family suing me for something irrelevant like dirtying an expensive carpet or some shit like that. 

“Welcome,” Alexander shouts into the echoing spaces of the house, “to my humble abode.” 

“Honestly, this place is anything but humble, but say what you want, kid,” I mumble underneath my breath, hoping Alexander doesn’t hear me. 

However, Alex must have heard me because right after I make my salty remark, he responds, “Don’t worry, we won’t be working down here anyways.” He ushers me with his hand to follow him, wherever he’s going. Although hesitantly, I follow behind the boy a few paces behind. “We’re going to work in my room.” 

On the 5k walk to Alexander’s room, we pass a large kitchen full of different foods and goodies. Just through there, the dining room is visible. That table is also filled with steak, salad, fish, and whatever the fuck these rich people have time to make. They must be feasting when Alexander’s family comes home. 

“My room is only on the second floor, so we’ll take the stairs instead of the elevator.” 

Not only did Alex statement show that there are more than two floors, there’s a goddamn elevator. Honestly, I don’t know how much of a bluff this is or if he’s being serious.   
The stairs are my equivalent of Mt. Everest, but I don’t say that because, hey, maybe he’s been there too and is waiting to correct my sarcasm. Let’s be real, we all know that Alex is enough of a headass to do that. 

We both make it to Alex’s room to work (although one of us is more out of breath than the other) in one piece. Alex unlocks his door to get into the room. After the does so, his wrist slowly turns the handle to reveal his room. 

Goddamn is all I can say. 

It’s going to be an interesting night.


	6. I Definitely Wasn't Ready to Meet His Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm going to be trying to get chapters out on AO3 the same day I post them to Wattpad. It seems like people take the story a lot better on here than over there. It's easy to get exposure and locate a target demographic on AO3. That's what I really do love about this site. If it was more accessible with my schedule, I'd completely drop Wattpad, however, that is not the case. No matter, I will be posting a lot more regularly on here, so watch for that!

If I didn't know it was Alexander's room, I definitely would have complimented its contents. The walls are painted a navy blue, but you can't really see them that well because they're covered with posters and tickets for Broadway shows. From the ceiling hang loads of dim lights and picture collages. Multiple American flag tapestries hang over the queen bed. It's homey, but it's got a weird aura to it. The feeling is hard to describe. Cynical almost. 

"Cool room," I mumble to the boy in front of me, making himself comfortable on the beanbag in the back corner. A part of me doesn't want to believe it, but it really is a great work space. 

"Thanks," Alexander replies, a sly grin on his face. He closes his eyes slightly, looking quite tired. 

I glance around the room still while I'm making my way towards the desk chair by a large window. Trying to come up with something say to make this less awkward, I ask, "So... Who are the people in those pictures?" 

While saying this, I point to the ones hanging from the lights by pushpins and fishing wire. In some of the pictures, there appears to be a young woman, perhaps in mid-thirties, with two younger boys. The background was beautiful; palm trees with bright fruits framed the photo while the sea rolled behind them and the sun shined, casting shadows on their features. 

Alexander's face visibly grimaces and a frown takes over his once-grinning features. "That is none of your business, John. Please don't ask about what you should be keeping your nose out of." 

His quick change in attitude catches me off guard. It genuinely sends shivers trailing up and down my spine. I take a small gulp before responding in a small voice, “Will do, Alexander.” 

“How wonderful!” The boy exclaims, a large grin quickly working right back up to his face, though it’s not hard to see that it’s forced. “Well then, how about we start on our project now?” 

Although I’m glad that his passive outburst is over with, he still kinda scares me. It makes me uncomfortable how fluently he switches from one emotion to the next. It makes him unpredictable, and that’s what scares me most. 

“Yeah, let's do that,” I reply, awkwardly scratching the back of my neck. “Would you want to do a classic or something newer?” 

“Actually,” Alexander starts, dragging his words on, “I was thinking that we should do a scene from the show, Miranda.” 

I’m caught off guard by his proposition, to say the least. It’s surprising (and almost disturbing) that we have the same interest in Miranda. Alexander is in theatre class with me, so I suppose that it would make sense. However, it still does surprise me. No matter how hard I try, a ghost of a smile finds its way to between my cheeks. 

“That’s a great idea, actually. Miranda is a great show.” 

Alexander fakes a surprised look on his face; the mischievous glint in his eyes gives that away. “Woah! John Laurens is agreeing with me? Willingly!? Where are the cameras?” 

The boy laughs only a small chuckle, but it's contagious. Soon enough we’re both laughing until our sides hurt. I sigh after the fit is gone and wonder out loud, “What the hell that wasn't even that funny.” 

“What can I say? My personality is just that infectious,” Alexander laughs, flipping his nonexistent hair. 

“Just like the measles in a hot, damp room,” I mumble, only half joking. 

The silence after the storm is calm, but still slightly awkward. It doesn’t last that long because Alexander soon breaks it, starting with, “So, what scene do you want to do?” 

It doesn’t take me long to answer with, “we could do a medley of the ‘Reynold’s Pamphlet,’ and ‘Burn.’ I think that those songs could definitely be twisted into a different story.”

Alexander seems to really ponder on my proposition. His eyebrows furrow and lips begin to purse slightly. After what seems like a while, the boy in front of me folds his hands, weaving hid fingers in and out. He agrees while smiling, “Yeah I think that could work.” 

 

For at least another hour, Alexander and I are absorbed in our project. Honestly, I thought that this would be the type of project that I would do all the work while the other person plays goddamn Clash Royale on their phone for two hours. I thank the gods that this isn’t one of those projects because there is no way that I would able to make this project good without a second opinion. 

We’re working our asses our asses off while listening to his theatre playlist when the front doorbell rings throughout the empty house. As we both here the sound, any emotion on Alexander’s face is replaced with pure dread and nerves. 

“I’ll go and get the door,” Alexander mumbles, barely audible. “I think you might need to go.” 

“Okay then, I’ll go down with you,” I reply hesitantly. Alexander must not here me though; when I say this, he’s already halfway down the hall outside the room. Quickly, I follow behind him, making sure that my feet are a quiet as his. 

When Alexander opens the door, hid face is completely emotionless, except for that blank, fake smile that I see him pull whenever talking to teachers. “Hello, Father, James.” 

“You kept us waiting long enough, Alexander,” The older man, which I’m assuming is his father, barks but in a calm tone. He looks around the house and spots me near the back, getting me shoes from the hall. “Now who is this behind you?” 

As Alexander doesn’t respond right away and looks back to me, I think it’s in my best interest to introduce myself. I stand up quickly and stutter out, “My name is John Laurens, Sir. Um, I’m working on a project with your son.” 

He looks me up and down as if he’s judging my very soul. A frown takes up the area of his face. He looks me dead in the eyes when he says in a bass voice, “I think you should be leaving then, Mr. Laurens.” 

I nod my head, as I can tell that Alexander’s dad wants me gone as soon as possible. I quickly slip on my shoes with the two visitors still standing in the doorway. Their eyes are burning holes into my back. Once my shoes are on, I grab the small bag I came with into my clammy hands and try to make a swift exit. The two clear the doorway for me to leave.

I look at them both; while the father wears a stern and, honestly, quite frightening expression, the other boy looks at me with a black face but sympathetic eyes. It embarrasses me more than I would like it to. Before leaving without a word, I turn back and say to Alexander in a small voice, “I’ll see you on Monday, Alex.” 

He nods at me with sorry eyes as well. The door shuts behind me, and I start my walk home in the dark with a flushed face and a heart pounding from nerves. 

 

By the time I get home, the sun has set, and the temperature has dropped drastically. I’m literally about to need to cut my toes off. People shouldn’t need to wear winter coats in the beginning of May, however, Mother Nature hates us all and sometimes is in a bitchier mood compared to usual. Maybe she’s on her period, but I’m not allowed to judge. 

Before I walk in the door, I check my phone for the time. When I press the home button, the front screen reads 9:27. I take my keys out of the pants pockets to open the door. As soon as I creak open the door, I hear a low voice from the living room next door call out, “So, John, where have you been all afternoon?” 

I stop dead in my tracks. Although I can’t see my father, his menace and disgust seeping into his voice are alarming. I try not to stutter when I lie right through my teeth. “I was hanging out with Lafayette and Hercules at the movie theater.” 

There’s not answer for a few seconds, leaving me in a suspenseful silence. Honestly, I don’t think he’s going to buy my excuse, but it’s the only chance I have to survive the night. My dad has an ever-growing hatred towards Alexander, and if he ever knew I was over there, I don’t think I’d see the light of day. 

“Was that Alexander kid there with you?” 

I freeze and flush even more if that’s possible. Digging myself even deeper into the hole I’ve dug, I reply with the most confident tone I can muster up, “No, he wasn’t there.” 

There is another long pause from my father. Here I am, swaying back and forth on my heels while waiting for him to say something because we all know he has something to say.   
“You know that Alexander is a bad kid. I won’t allow my son to hang out with a faggot like that.” 

I gulp and I can feel my hands start to shake. The cold in his tone must seep into the air because I swear the temperature drops by 15 degrees. I try to close my eyes and take a deep breath, but the exhale surpasses the definition of shaky. 

Before I break into tears, I respond with, “Yes Father,” and head for the stairs. I’m already opening the door before I hear my father wish me goodnight. Without slamming the door out of frustration, I shut myself into the room while tears run down my face. 

I never really bothered to ask my father his stand on gays and shit like that. Our relationship was never close in the first place, so I just assumed I’d be able to come out when I saw fit and his judgment wouldn’t affect me. Now it seems as if my father’s only job is to force me out of the closet while confining my life to a box. 

My pile of lies is growing; it’s just a matter of when that pile is going to spill over. And goddamn does it seem like it’s reaching its full capacity.


	7. Walking is For the Weak

After an unpleasant night’s sleep, I wake to the loud siren of an alarm going off at 7 bells. Although I'd like to hit the snooze button for as long as possible, the short ping of a text message appears on my home screen. I really hope it isn't who I think it is, but who else is up this early in the morning? Definitely not Lafayette or Herc, after a “long night,” I don’t expect them to wake up before 3 pm.

Satan Himself:

Hey r u alright after last night my dad was being a dick

 

I didn't expect Alexander to text me to see if I was okay. Honestly, I thought he would hit me up with a snarky good morning text. Now that I think about it, I should probably change his contact name. He’s a decent dude I guess.

Me:

Yeah I'm Gucci. Nothing I couldn't handle

Decent dude I guess:

Okay good I don't want little baby Johnny crying on my any time soon.

Me:

You won't see that happening anytime soon so don't count on that.

Decent dude I guess:

I that a challenge Johnny boy?

Me:

I will thoroughly kick your ass next time I see you if you think it is.

Decent dude I guess:

I'll take my chances ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

I roll my eyes in annoyance Alexander’s antics, but I still find it quite heartwarming that he cares about my wellbeing. Definitely, I agree with him; his dad was a mythic bitch. He didn't even know me, yet he had the audacity to be rude. Really I shouldn't be saying shit because I was technically the guest, but still. It’s rude. I really did not appreciate it.  
On the other hand, I have no idea what to think of Alexander’s brother. His name is James I believe; if I remember correctly, Alexander called him that when he came over. 

Whatever his name is, he seemed different, per say. The look on his face almost seemed... empathetic? There was this dull gleam in his eyes that said, “I’m sorry about him. I know he’s a cold bitch.” It’s beyond my knowledge why he would ever feel sorry for a stranger he met stalking around in his house. I decide that it’s a smarter idea to not dwell on these facts. It’s too early in the morning for this shit and I’d rather be sleeping on a Saturday morning such as this.

However, the smell of bacon and cheese omelets waft through the air to my room, keeping me from going back to sleep. Still, in my pajamas, I make my way down the stairs in a swift motion. I try to not make much noise; I don’t know what kind of mood Father is in after yesterday.

To my surprise, it’s not my father in the kitchen, but Hercules and Lafayette. Hercules in manning the stove while Lafayette is kneading, what looks like, pastry dough. My footsteps must not be as quiet as I thought they were, because both Herc and Laf turn around, and slightly surprised at that. Their breaths visibly release tension. I can’t help let out a relieved breath as well.

In a sleepy tone, I ask to no one in particular, “Hey guys. Nice to see you this fine, early morning.”

“I don’t know how you’re still sleepy, or can sleep this long for that matter. I’m up at 5:45 every morning. This isn’t that early,” Herc replies with a small chuckle, carrying on with his cooking while speaking.

“You should start waking up early too, mon ami,” Lafayette adds, “Maybe you’ll learn to be more sociable.”

Lafayette winces when I smack him on the shoulder for his comment. He mouths, “Ouch, you hoe,” but both Hercules and I are laughing at his pain. “All of you are assholes.”

“Says the one who broke into my house at seven a.m. By the way, how did you get in here anyways? The front door was locked last night.”

Both Hercules and Lafayette laugh, but Herc then says, “You keep your spare key in the most generic place possible.”

“Under the doormat, John?” Lafayette asks, only slightly disbelieving. “You couldn’t think of anywhere better?”

I roll my eyes at the two. “If you care so much, then worry about it somewhere else. It’s my house, remember?” I chuckle.

Lafayette just shrugs his shoulders and teases, “Don’t come crying to us if some burglars who have watched anything on Disney Channel break in. We’ve warned you.” All three of us let out a hearty laugh at the thought. Guys dressed in all black singing “How Far I’ll Go” while breaking into your family safe. Damnit, now I actually want to see that happen. Just not here. That would be unfortunate.

“Now get out,” Hercules chuckles while shouting at me. “The eggs will be done in ten minutes and the pastries another twenty. Go sit in the living room or some shit.”

I comply easily, and I think that both Herc and I are happy that I did. Last time they allowed me to be in the kitchen for more than fifteen minutes, there was a fire in the oven and milk was pouring over in the sink and on the counter. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Ever since then, it’s an unspoken rule between us that I don’t step foot in the kitchen until the food is done.

The couch is pretty comfortable when you get into it. Settling into my favorite crease, I turn on Regular Show while the others slave away in the kitchen. I kick my feet up onto the coffee table and pull the throw pillow on my side to my chest in a bear hug.

Half an hour into Regular Show, Hercules calls from the kitchen, “Yo Laurens, help us eat all this shit now.”

I'm already sprinting to the dining room by the time I hear, “eat.” Making sure to watch out for Laf and Herc, who are bringing out food from the kitchen, I sit down and tap my foot impatiently while waiting to eat the food. Both of the boys carry in two full platters, one in each hand. When they put them on the table and seat themselves, I’m looking at the food in amazement.

“Well, dig in, hoes,” Lafayette shouts with excitement. 

 

After breakfast, the three of us decide that we need to go take a walk outside unless we want to fall into a deadly food-induced coma. The weather outside is just warm enough that you could walk outside in a short sleeve and not completely freeze your limbs. Thankfully this is true because there is no way in hell that I was going to run upstairs just to change; I would have wanted to collapse on the stairs halfway up. 

For maybe half an hour, the three of us roam around the neighborhood without a real purpose. No conversation is really going, but that’s okay. We’re all completely happy walking along in a comfortable silence. That silence is broken, however, when Lafayette’s phone begins to ring. A contact that reads, “Mother,” with a cool shades guy emoji pops onto the screen. Without hesitation, Lafayette presses the answer button and says, “Hello?”

There’s a silence for a while, but soon a panicked face floods to his face. “Okay, I’ll be right there. Bye!”

Quickly, the frenchy hangs up on his mother and starts to sprint in the direction of his home, as it isn't that far away. As he does so, he calls out to Hercules and me from behind him. “I forgot I have family coming. Gotta go! I'll text you guys later!”

The two of us that are left laugh at Lafayette’s forgetfulness. “Remind me to never let Lafayette do my party planning. He’d probably forget the date of it in the first place,” 

Hercules jokes with me. He starts again after the laughter has left the both of us. “I should go though, too. I have a job interview around three, and I should go home and prepare.”

“What’s the job for?” I ask Hercules, not having the slightest clue.

“Actually,” Herc starts, a satisfied smile spreads across his wide face, “I’m applying for an apprenticeship at a tailoring company. For University, I’m going to apply for a fashion design major.”

Excitement is in the air as Herc talks about his future in the fashion business, and I can’t help but feel excited with him. Even though I have no clue what the future holds for me, it’s nice to know that my friends have plans and dreams.

“Thanks for the breakfast, Herc. I really needed that pick-me-up.”

I can tell that he wants to press for more details, but he holds back. It’s as if there’s a wall between what Hercules wants and what he will actually9* accomplish. I think he knows that even if he keeps asking, I won’t ever willingly tell him what happened. Instead of asking questions, he chokes down the worried look in his eyes and cheers with a smile, “You’re welcome, Johnny. We’ll have to do that again because Lafayette’s pastries are the shit.”

Consciously, I agree with him, but I don’t reply. I send a small smile his way before he makes his way down the path to his home. I look around to see where I am; the three of us were walking around with no particular destination, so I could have been halfway to Vegas and I wouldn’t have even noticed. It takes a few seconds, but then I recognize where I am: in front of the little neighborhood park.

Little children are running around and going down slides while their parents watch attentively on the sidelines. Controlled chaos is really only the way to describe it. I didn’t even know that this many children lived in this neighborhood. Mostly older families and small households live around here; many of the houses only fit three people.

In the least suspicious way possible, I sit down on one of the benches in front of the playground. I watch the children run around on the woodchips and chasing each other. In a way it’s calming to observe the scene around me; it’s like a breath of fresh air from the stress of everything in life as of late. As I look around, I notice a certain familiar long, brown mop. 

Alexander sits under a tree with a notebook and computer at his side. He’s holding a pen, but it hangs loosely between his fingers. His long hair falls in front of his face, so I can’t see his eyes at all. It almost looks like there’s a lack of life in him, however, his chest rises and falls in rhythm with his hair flying upwards due to his breaths.

I walk over to him out of curiosity, but as I get closer, it’s obvious that he’s sleeping and not actually dead. It’s surprising that people left him alone, but I’m not going to. With only a little force, I push on Alexander’s shoulder to try and wake him up. However, all the response I get from the boy is a soft groan and turn of the head to the opposite side. I grumble at the fact that he must be a heavy sleeper and push him even harder. This time Alexander pops his head up with a jolt. He looks around at his surroundings in a frantic expression, but he visibly relaxes when he sees that it’s only me.

“John, where the hell am I?” Alexander asks, annoyed. Streaks of drowsiness lace through his tone, as he just woke up. He looks around again.

“You’re at the park,” I reply slowly as if he wouldn’t understand if I spoke any faster. A surprised expression leaks too his face from his tired, yet alert eyes. “By chance, were you out here all night?”

Alexander seems dazed, but asks me, “What time is it?”

I slide my phone out of my back pocket and press the home button, which reads 9:20. “It’s a little past 9 a.m.”

Instead of actually responding, he just laughs. When he comes back from his tired fit, he states, bored, “Well, I guess I did.”

My eyes roll before I can even stop myself. Bending down, I start picking up his things that are scattered around his feet.

Alexander shoots me a confused face and then asks, “What are you doing?”

“I’m picking up your shit so I can bring you home, stupid.”

He stands up and folds his arms over his chest. “I can get home by myself. I’m not that helpless,” Alexander whines while trying to cover up the fact that he almost fell over while trying to stand.

“Your house is a forty minute walk away while mine is only ten at most. Just walk to my house and I’ll give you a ride from there.”

Although he’s pouting, I can tell Alexander likes my idea more than walking all the way back home. “Fine, Babe. But only because you sound a lot better than a long walk alone.”

A dry chuckle leaves my lips. I usher him to follow me as I hand him his bag with all of his things packed. While I lead the way, Alex trails close behind me, but his feet drag against the concrete paths due to fatigue.

Three minutes into the walk, Alexander whines to me, “Johnnnnn, carry me.”

Not even looking back at the boy, I groan, “No, Alex, you have feet.”

“But I’m tireedd.”

“Nope.”

“Pleasseeeee, John.”

“Not going to work, Alex.”

“What about our deal.”

That gets me pissed really quickly. I stop in my tracks, and so does Alexander. When I turn around to face the boy, he has a smug grin on his face that I’d just love to slap right off. However, I swallow my anger (and pride, for that matter), and say in the most forced cheerful voice and forced smile on my face, “Sure, Alexander. I’d love to.”

“How wonderful,” he replies in a happy voice as if he didn’t just blackmail me into carrying him on my back for half a mile.

He hops onto my back, his bag slung onto his own. His arms wrap around my waist while mine hug his legs so he doesn’t fall off my back (though I’d be more than happy to let him. It’s just that he’d drag me down with him). The boy is drastically lighter than I thought he would be for his size. Although he still isn’t that tall, he still couldn’t have been over 120 pounds. Even if that does worry me slightly, I’m still just happy that I don’t need to carry three sandbags worth of male.

We get home and I say to Alexander, “Dude, we’re here. Get off my back now.”

I don’t get a response. The small boy on my back is fast asleep, and I sigh. With Alexander still on my back, I open the garage door carefully and open the door to the car to put him in the passenger seat. After putting his bag in the back, I quickly run into the house to get the keys. When I come back out, Alexander is still in the same sleeping position as before: sprawled out all over the window and chair arms. I chuckle slightly at the sight of a human before me, but I open the garage and turn the ignition.

I remember the way to Alexander’s, thankfully. My memory doesn’t fail for once. As I pull into his driveway, I go up to the front door. After ringing the doorbell and waiting a few seconds, I hear nothing; the house seems dead. I try knocking on the door, but instead of someone coming to answer the door, I feel that the door isn’t completely shut. With a light touch of my hand, the door cracks open.

To anyone, this probably looks really suspicious, but I don’t really are at this point. Alexander was sitting in the passenger seat looking about lifeless. I just need to get him inside on the couch and then I can leave.

I carry Alexander out of the car bridal style, with his bag slung over my shoulders to carry. Making sure Alex’s head doesn’t hit the door frame, the front door swings open with a bump of my hip. The front room looks as clean as when I left last night; it just seems… colder. Shrugging the bag off my shoulder, I lay the boy on the couch and look for the nearest blanket. Next to the television on the other side of the room is a basket full of different blankets and throws, so I take a thick, cotton blanket and lay it across his body.

My work here is done, so I take a quick glance around the room to make sure I didn’t leave any marks of my presence. Once I’m sure that my coming and going is seamless, I leave Alexander’s house, shutting the front door behind me. I clamber into my car and fumble to put the keys in the ignition. Subconsciously, a little, genuine smile appears on my face.

“Sweet dreams, little Alexander,” I whisper to no one in particular as I twist and weave through the suburban roads of the neighborhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of really cute, but this is mostly the setup still... the plot will start really building from here. Sorry for the bit of a slow start, however, I needed to set up character traits and such, so this was necessary. Appreciate the fluff before it takes a turn, my friends, because I assure you that it will.  
> On another note, LOOK AT ME GUYS THIS IS THE LONGEST CHAPTER I'VE WRITTEN! I had this chapter planned out, but when I was writing it, it basically wrote itself. Be proud guys I'm crying in the club.   
> Abby x


	8. Fucking Rio Pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Look guys! I'm not dead! I may have looked like it online, but it was just that I had been away on "vacation" for the week. (Vacation really means back to back baseball and volleyball tournaments across the Midwest with no actual free time, but who needs to know that?) But because of that, I was not able to write very much, much less post an entirely new chapter. As compensation, I'll give you half the chapter now, and the other half this weekend (most likely).
> 
> But yeah, that all I have to say. I should be able to get part two to this done and uploaded by Saturday. If not, I give you all permission to throw my baby cactus at me. Bye for now, my friends <3
> 
> Abby x

It’s another few hours before I get a response from Alexander. As I thought, he slept through that whole span of time. Based on how tired he was when I found him, however, maybe he didn’t. Although he was tired as fuck. He woke himself up pretty quickly after I got him started by shaking him halfway to an aneurysm. Alexander is a heavy sleeper; that’s for sure. But it doesn’t take much to get him fully awake after he starts.

Decent dude I guess:

Hello

Decent dude I guess:

I’m not dead

Decent dude I guess:

Don’t arrange my will yet

Me:

Damnit I was going to take your entire inheritance

Me:

fALL BACK

Decent dude I guess:

Ha ha ha you humor me

Decent dude I guess:

However…

Decent dude I guess:

That is not what I’m needing to talk to you about

 

As if on cue, my phone begins to ring in my hand. Sure enough, it’s Alexander (but it’s not like I expect anyone else to call me anyways). “Well, hello there, John,” I hear from the other end. However, it feels different. I know it’s Alexander on the end because it’s his voice, but something odd or different. Maybe it’s his more serious tone, or maybe it’s that I can’t picture him on the other end.

“What’s it that you need, Alexander?” My voice comes out more on edge than I’d like it to be.

“Well,” Alexander hesitates before continuing on as if he doesn’t sound as if he’s being forced to talk, “I have a proposition.”

It is then that I know that this isn’t his idea to call me, much less on his own will. The Alexander I know would never make the right use of the word, “proposition” in everyday language. I try to ignore my revelation and respond with the most convincing voice as possible, “And what is that proposition, Alexander?”

There’s a pause between our responses where there is nothing to be heard on either side of the line. That small pause fades after a few long seconds when Alexander cuts it. “There’s this ball next weekend on Friday night; it’s the Winter’s Ball.”

My breath hitches slightly at his words. The Winter’s Ball is one of the most prestigious dances, reserved for the richest, most powerful, and influential families in the world. Whether influential and powerful are positive and negative adjectives, it doesn’t matter. By the looks of it, Alexander’s family seems to be included in that mix; powerful in more than one category.

“I’m guessing that you’ve been invited then?”

“You are correct in saying that,” the boy muses through the phone, some of his normal personality seeping through, “and I have been told that I must bring a plus one.”

I’m used to Alexander’s relentless flirting and cocky ass attitude, however, even this is quite forward for him. Never would I think of myself as someone Alexander would even consider bringing as a plus one. For fuck’s sake, he basically has ladies worshipping him and kissing his damn Jesus chanclas. “I’m guessing, because you called me, that you want me to be that plus one?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, why me. You have a million girls knocking on your door anyways.”

“Are you testing me, John? I really wouldn’t recommend that.” Alexander’s voice still lays calm. However, bits and pieces of anger fracture his calm tone, as if this is the calm before the storm.

“No, I’m not, Alexander,” I say while gritting my teeth, trying to sound as cheery as possible.

It’s only now that I can actually imagine Alexander on the other end. I don’t know if I should see that as good or alarming. “Good then, I will send you the information later.” And then he almost hangs up. It startles me, really. Before he is able to, I hold him.

“Wait,” I urge, “I still have one quick question.”

“What is it?”

“Why is it called Winter’s Ball when it’s practically almost summer?”

There’s a slight pause. “You’ll see. It’ll make sense soon.”

This time, Alexander actually hangs up, leaving me to wonder what the fuck he meant by “It’ll make sense soon.” It still sort of gives me shivers that Alexander wasn’t sounding like his normal self. The prideful and cocky asshole I know definitely wasn’t there. That almost scares me a bit. At least the Alexander I know can be predictable. It’s like going into a baseball game against a team with no stats; it’s nerve wracking because of the lack of prior knowledge. Although I’m not a fan of the Alexander I do know, the one I don’t know scares the hell out of me tenfold.

Alexander wasn’t kidding when he said that it would be soon when I’d understand. All the answers unfold as I get his text message. And shit, I’d better get my sunglasses.

Decent dude I guess:

Next Friday, there will be a chauffeur outside your house at 5:30 A.M. They’ll bring you to JFK Airport where you’ll then go to the front desk and say you’re with the Hamiltons. They’ll give you a pass and take you to a terminal with the flight taking you to Rio. You will see me standing near the terminal when you get there.

I read through Alexander’s text message multiple times, and each time I’m more dumbfounded than the last. I don’t mean to leave him on read, but I just forget to text him back. When he said that it would make sense, I thought there would be a bit more of an explanation. Alexander did answer my question but leaves me with even more to be answered. One thing is for certain, however.

I’m going to fucking Rio.


	9. Fucking Rio Pt. 2

“Remind me why we’re skipping half of the school day for this?” 

“Because,” Alexander muses with a slight eye roll while dragging me from store to store at the mall, “I need to make sure that your attire fits the atmosphere for tomorrow tonight.” 

I scoff at the boy’s attention to useless details. “What? Are we going to twin and wear the same suit? We’ll be matchy-matchy!” I mock, my voice full of sarcasm. 

Alexander, however, doesn’t sense it and takes my statement seriously. At first, he lets out a dry laugh that stops, but his voice lays serious when he states, “No we aren’t wearing the same suit, but we must color coordinate. There has to be some class in the way you think, John.” 

I almost stop in my tracks. 

Almost. 

Even if I didn’t drop to the floor, I still give Alexander a look of disbelief, even terrified. “Oh hell no. We are not doing that.” 

“If you don’t want to look suspicious or even get yourself killed, I’d listen to what I’m telling you,” Alexander almost growls. “Wear what I give you, and don’t complain. Many of the people who attend this ball have a fatal case of trigger happy smallpox, and they’d be just fine shooting anyone who they suspect as a threat. Believe me, I don’t think either of us wants to see you get killed.” 

As a reflex, I gulp and widen my eyes slightly at Alexander’s warning. In a shaky breath, I respond to the unsaid question of confirmation, “G-got it.” 

A smile grows wide on Alexanders face. “Great! Then can we carry on?” Alexander cheers, his mood changing dramatically in 2 seconds flat. “I was thinking of sleek black blazers, but the tie-“ 

While Alexander babbles on and on about our suit designs, but I tune him out. I’m too absorbed by the fact that every single suit we look at costs over 3 thousand dollars. For fuck’s sake, the jackets must be lined with goddamn gold if the cost that much. 

Alexander grabs my wrist and drags me to the front desk of the store he led us to. The person at the front desk looks up from his computer, and his eyes widen at the sight. “Mr. Hamilton,” the man says with a slightly surprised face, “what can I get for you?” 

“We are going to need two custom suits.” Alexander turns to me and gives me a devilish smirk. “All black, of course.” 

The man gives him a silent nod before ushering us towards the back of the store. Through the thick, black curtains we walked through is a room full of dressing rooms and areas to do body measurements. It looks a lot more extravagant than I think it needs to be. All chairs and curtains are covered in velvet while the floor is well dressed with authentic sheep’s wool rugs. The crystal chandeliers dangling from the ceiling prove that rich people are really extra. 

Although my family is quite wealthy, we choose not to put all of the wealth into objects, but rather stick it where it was actually needed, such as paying off loans and college funds. I know, so extravagant. However, at least we’re smart. No one needs nice but over the top things to be happy or survive, so we chose to live without it. 

As I’m looking around at the décor of the room, I almost miss the man asking me to a small box to get my measurements. Carefully, I step onto the box with a light foot. 

“Alexander already has his measurements logged here from the last time he came for a suit. When was that? Two weeks ago?” the man explains, trying to make conversation. However, that attempt fails, as Alexander only nods his head in response, his expression having the enthusiasm of a cardboard box. 

Silence falls over the three of us as the man takes the measurement of my waist (which is really uncomfortable, by the way. Too close to my no-no square, Mister). In another attempt to make conversation, I ask Alexander, “So, what does your family do? I know you’re rich and powerful. I mean, you’re invited to the damn Winter’s Ball. What got you there?” 

 

Alexander snaps back to reality when he hears the question. His eyes dart around the room, though subtly. The tailor pauses slightly as well. Eventually, Alexander meets my eyes. “We work with… exports.” 

I search for any sign of nerves in his face, but his expression is unreadable. I sigh and take his answer, though I'm not satisfied by it. I feel like there’s more to it, but I don’t pry. It isn't any of my business anyways. But whatever they're distributing must be worth lots. Their whole family reeks of wealth and power. That couldn't happen through just selling cheese and mineral water or some shit like that. 

We don't talk for the rest of the measuring time. Thankfully, though, the tailor is quite fast with getting those done. He writes all of his data down on a sheet of paper and then ushers the two of us to follow him to the front of the store again. We sit in silence for another minute or two as he rings up our order on the cash register. 

“Okay,” the man starts while staring at the computer screen that reads our order, “That will be 5,245 dollars, and your order will be done by next Thursday.” 

Alexander almost swipes his card but then pulls back when he hears the day of pick-up. “Excuse me for my request, but,” Alexander says with a small chuckle as if he’s trying not to completely lash out the man, “Thursday won’t work. We need those suits by tomorrow morning.” 

A pair of eyes widens behind the register. “Mr. Hamilton, I don’t even know if that request is humanly possible. I’d have to spend-“  
Before he could finish, Alexander cuts him off, “As you know, our companies are allies in more than one way.” The tailor shuts up, gulping. “However, one side of this alliance needs the other more than the other need them. I don’t think I need to point out which that is.” Alexander’s voice is low, almost resembling a growl. The glare he’s shooting could bring any grown businessman to their pleading knees. “These suits are for a very important event, and if the results aren’t satisfactory, that will create unwanted consequences. We both know what that means.” More fear shoots through the man’s pupils. “I suggest that you get these suits finished by tomorrow morning. In your best interest, that is.” 

The tailor’s Adam’s apple bobs at the sight of Alexander’s unfaltering smirk. In a shaking voice, he submits, “Your suits will be ready tomorrow morning for pickup.” 

Alexander isn’t smiling anymore. “Someone will be picking them up at 5 a.m. so make sure you’re here to let them in.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll still be here,” The tailor sighs. 

“Good,” Alexander concludes before grasping my wrist and walking out of the store. 

His face has returned to cardboard box status while I’m being dragged behind him, still halfway terrified and halfway confused as to what the fuck just happened between those two. Although I’m curious and nervous for my own wellbeing, I have no energy to be testy, so I let Alexander lead me to his car and drive me back home. 

 

As I settle back into my house, I receive a text message from Father. 

Dadio: 

Hey, I’m going to be out this weekend for business affairs. Hold down the fort and no friends over. 

I leave him on read and shut off my phone. 

I already have a feeling that this is going to be a very long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me I stopped slacking and finally wrote the part two! Let me feed your brains, children. Although this is pretty much filler, you do get some info on Alexander if you saw it hehe. 
> 
> On another note, you won't be seeing a chapter next weekend from me because I'm going to Jesus Camp this coming week. If you do get a new chapter, the earliest that will be Tuesday the 18th of July. I'm hella excited to write these next upcoming chapters. Be ready for some action ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ). nO NOT SMUT I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING GET UR HEAD OUTA THE GUTTER. 
> 
> That's all for now though. Have a nice week my dudes and see you later!
> 
> Also thanks for the cacti in my face. I'm sure they appreciated it. Now they have prickles with a full face of foundation and winged eyeliner.
> 
> Abby x


	10. 10.0//Waiting on my Impending Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and John getting lost in the city and then arriving at their hotel. John winds up in a peculiar situation...

The sun comes down from the sky in what seems like waves. Heat radiates off the sidewalk that Alexander and I walk on. We walk side by side on the sidewalks of Rio as we try to navigate our way to the hotel we'll be staying at for the weekend. By the frustrated groans coming out of Alexander's mouth, I assume his navigation skills are sub-par. 

After a few more long minutes of Alexander's failing guidance, I butt into his thoughts with, "If you're really this frustrated, why don't we just call up your chauffeur? It'll be a lot easier than wandering around aimlessly."

Alexander, however, cuts me off, "Nope, I refuse. You wanted to walk around the city, so that's what we'll do as we try to find the damned hotel."

"I meant after we got to the hotel and actually knew where we were going to go, dipshit," I mutter low under my breath, low enough for "almighty" Alexander to not hear me. As I suspected, he keeps staring at his phone, trying to follow the directions.

I have had enough of his headassery and decide to pull up the directions myself. Luckily, I had some international data left over from a from a trip about six months back. I look at the map and find out that we are walking in the completely wrong direction. I narrow my eyes like slits and slowly turn my head towards Alex with a scowl on my face. In response, he sends me a cheeky half-smile my way.

"You know what," I start, sighing, "I think I'll just be in charge of the map from now on."

When Alexander doesn't object, I start down the road the way we came and he follows behind me without question. I'm thankful for that because I don't know if I could take another minute of his constant superiority complex. But then again, I don't think it would be Alex without that.

By the time we reach the hotel, we only have about 4 hours until the ball starts. While that seems like a lot, I have a feeling the Alexander is going need half that time just to do his hair. When we enter into the lobby, Alexander's chauffeur and many attendants are waiting in the lobby. As I glance around the hotel, the biggest thing that I notice is how it reeks of money. The main floor is covered from top to bottom in beautiful white marble. A grand, snow white staircase is in the center of the room, leading to the rows of gold-plated elevator doors. Gold columns and pillars stretch to the ceiling and the sitting areas throughout the hall are decorated with furniture that looks almost too expensive to sit in as if it would crack underneath me for being too low-class. Hell, even the receptionist is wearing the latest designer dress.

"Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Laurens. Right this way," a man says in an all too cheery tone to be real. "I shall lead you to your room. All your bags have already been taken up."

Alexander doesn't seem phased by this, but I turn to the chauffer with a wary look. Surprisingly, he smiles at me and confirms, "I have checked you both in already. Everything has been taken care of." I still look at him with slight puzzlement. "Move along now, Mr. Laurens. Don't get too far behind them." I turn around to see Alexander and the man already getting into the elevator. When Alex beckons me over to them, I quickly jog over to them and get into the elevator right before it closes.

Then, a silence ensues as the jazzy piano music starts to ring throughout the compartment. Damn, even the elevator music sounds ritzy, I think to myself. The elevator ride takes longer than expects, but then again, I have no idea what floor we're on, nor do I know how many floors are in the building. However, based on the sheer length of the elevator ride, I would think that we are quite near the top floor. But then again, awkward silence makes two minutes feel like one hundred.

After what seems like a few more minutes, the elevator comes to a halt with a jerk and a small ding that sounds through the room. The doors open to reveal, what I can only imagine cost my entire savings account, a lofty penthouse. Alexander and I walk forward into the spacious front room.

"Welcome to the Presidential Penthouse Suite. Please, enjoy your stay," the man says from behind us. He takes his leave and closes the elevator behind us, leaving the room to just Alexander and I. Alexander must notice the fact that my mouth had practically unhinged from my jaw because he laughs as he starts to explore the suite. I take my time walking around, but I'm immediately searching for my bedroom.

I wander through the winding hallways, but the twists and turns and matching walls and doors make everything 5 times more hard to find. So, hoping he could hear me from wherever he is, I call out to Alexander, "Alex, where are the bedrooms? All I've been able to find is a game room and infinity pool."

I hear shuffling from the end of the hallway and a door opening with Alex shouting, "Over here," from inside the room.

I walk over to the room, and I swear to god, if my jaw hasn't already broken, it probably has now. The bedroom is one of those rooms you'd see on one of those "travel goals" 

Instagram pages that sell shoutouts on their story. The room is almost all bright white with the exceptions of the bright pop art on the walls and the floor-to-ceiling window wall that faces the beach and the Atlantic Ocean. The view is breathtaking, but it seems like Alexander is taking no time to marvel at the sight, as he has already started unpacking his clothes and self-care items.

"Damn," I grumble under my breath, "my room better be this nice or I'm throwing hands."

Alexander turns back to me and laughs (slightly sinister, I might add), "Who said there's another room?"

I stare at him with a blank face, letting it settle in. Alexander must seem to see my face twist into frustration because he starts to chuckle when I let out a groan of disbelief. 

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" He just laughs a bit more.

Wonderful, just wonderful. I sigh once more, giving up on the kid in front of me. I swear to god, I'm going to fucking die up here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OmG WRITER'S BLOCK IS SO REAL WITH THIS STORY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS LIKE A GOOD 4 HOURS BECAUSE I HAD TO BREAK AND WATCH DEADPOOL IN BETWEEN AHA. Anyways, ss you can see, I've named this story not on hold anymore. now hold on there, partner. This does not mean that I'll be updating regularly. More like I still have plans and I wanna rewrite the whole beginning of this book because none of it reads right and I think it's shit. But hey, don't listen to me I'm my worst critic ahahah. But yeah, hello, I'm alive, and maybe I'll post a chapter in the next month or two I'm not sure yet. My friend on here and I might be planning to collab on a new story?? But yeah, there's an update for y'all.
> 
> Have a nice day <3
> 
> Abby x


	11. My Life Came Tumbling Down and Rebuilt Itself In Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness is far from easy, but maybe John and Alexander are willing to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I'D JUST REALLY LIKE TO THANK Y'ALL WHO STILL STUCK AROUND AFTER I WENT SILENT FOR LIKE TEN MONTHS. Really though, when familiar faces started commenting on the last chapter, I almost started crying out of pure happiness. Never did I think that the same people would be reading now. I made my heart swell so much I'm such a mess. I'd just like to thank those who stuck around as well as the new people. your guys' comments are what keep me going and keep me motivated. Don't be afraid to comment on someone's work; you never know. You may just make that person's day like you made mine. Hope you enjoy this chapter! <3
> 
> Abby x

"I don't see how you thought this could ever be a good idea, Alexander."

Alex is unpacking his abundance of luggage into the walk-in closet that's to the side of the flat-screen television.

"How could it not be?" He exclaims in an all too cheery tone. "Besides," He starts once again, suggestively, "it'll give us lots of time to bond." He sends a wink in my direction, but when I dismiss it, Alexander feigns hurt.

Did I mention that we're sharing a room?

Maybe twenty minutes have gone by, and I've already unpacked my things (not that I had many with me in the first place), but Alexander is still going. I'm not sure if it's just because he's getting sidetracked or he really has that many things.

I've already decided that I'm not sleeping on the floor and it will be Alexander who is since he put us in this situation in the first place. Not that he complies or anything, I just will kick him off the bed if he tries to sleep there.

Suddenly, the door to the closet bursts open to reveal Alexander in a swimsuit with a towel thrown over his shoulder. His long hair is tied back into a ponytail with a few strands of his brown locks hanging down, framing his face.

As much as his personality is completely infuriating, I can't help but think about how absolutely fucking hot this man is. As stated before, his personality is a complete downfall, but sometimes I wish I could forget about the fact that he is blackmailing me into being in his life and do something normal like grab a coffee or go to the movies. Although we still could do that now, it wouldn't feel the same as it would have if this whatever this relationship is was natural.

"Like what you see, Laurens?" I must have been caught staring as he strikes a pose and winks once more. I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile just a bit.

"So," I ask him, still sitting in the same spot as I was before, "Why do you have swim trunks on?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm going to go for a dip in that infinity pool you mentioned." Alexander walks over to me and clenches my wrist, pulling me towards the closet. "And you're coming with me."

I dig my heels into the floor to stop the boy from dragging me any further. "What do you mean ‘we're going swimming?' The dance starts in less than four hours and I'm guessing half that time will be dedicated to just doing your hair."

"Don't worry, we'll have time to get ready. It's good to be fashionably late anyway."

I cross my arms over my chest and give him a glare. "I don't even have a swimsuit with me, and I am definitely not going skinny dip."

"That's why I'm lending you one of mine."

I sigh in defeat, knowing that there is no way I can get out of this one. Still, I reluctantly trudge into the closet to find something to wear. Alexander tries to follow me in, but I slam the door in his face. "No, you cannot watch me change, asshole."

I can hear laughter from behind the door, and a half smile appears on my face.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, Alexander has at least ten different pairs of swim trunks hanging up in the closet, all in varying colors and patterns. I end up choosing a pair that's made of a solid highlighter-purple fabric, mainly because that was the least flashy of all the outfits there. Alexander is one to make an impression, to say the least. Surprisingly, the pair fits me nicely, even though they're a size or so too small (Alexander is quite intimidating, don't get me wrong, but I don't think that's because of his height).

I open the closet door to reveal Alexander sitting in the same spot I just was. He grins when he sees me in the doorway and tosses me a fresh beach towel. "I'll race you." And then he takes off running down the hall, leaving me to roll my eyes and walk at a normal pace.

I hear Alexander stomp through the hallway, his footsteps echoing on the walls. However, when I get to the room with the infinity pool in it, Alexander is nowhere to be seen. I walk out onto the open deck and look out onto the ocean in front of me. There's a slight wind that blows through my hair, and even though it's slightly cloudy, the sun peaks out from behind the grey sky.

All of a sudden, I hear loud steps from Alexander once again, but only now, they come from behind me. I hear a battle cry and I turn around. Alexander is barreling toward me, screaming, "Viva la Revolución!" 

He doesn't give me any time to move out of the way before he tackles me, pushing both of us into the warm salt water, soaking my towel in the process. We both surface, and he's laughing his ass off. I try to keep a stern face, but his laugh is contagious, and soon I find myself laughing just as hard.

Once the laughter dies down and we're floating around the pool at our own leisure, I confess to the boy, "It's been a long time since I've laughed." He looks at me with some surprise. "Well, I mean, I've laughed, yeah, but not that… sincere I guess." He doesn't respond. "You know what I mean." He just nods in response, but then turns to face me.

He looks as if he has something to say, but nothing leaves his mouth. I search his eyes for a clue or a sign, but his face is almost as unreadable as it tends to be. There's only one thing I can pick up on or maybe two; it's as if he's pleading. His eyes almost look as if they're sad.

He flashes that heart-melting smile that he showed me when I first met him - when the only thing I needed to worry about was whether he could hear me complimenting his ass from the back of the room. I wish our relationship was as simple as that now.

Just as I start to think that the world is going to crash down on the penthouse, the sky suddenly lifts when his lips crash into mine. For the few moments, I let all of our problems and tensions melt away and I'm convinced that everything is alright.

Alexander is the first to break away, leaving me in a daze on cloud nine. He still stares at me, searching my eyes for reassurance, but he still looks at me with regret in his eyes. I can't tell what he's thinking, so I straight up tell him, "I don't regret that."

He doesn't answer right away, as if he's searching for the right words to say. But when he responds, I can tell that he means it. "No, neither did I."

"You know," I start, taking in a deep breath and sighing, "I really wish that we could have gotten together on much better circumstances. Without the whole blackmailing me into obeying your every whim."

"I know." Alexander seems on edge as he speaks, his breath coming out shaky and unstable. "There's so much I need to apologize for and explain."

"Then why don't you."

"It's much harder than you'd think." His face is begging me to believe him. "There's so much I want – no, need – to tell you, but I can't. I wish I could, but I just can't."

I nod. Closing my eyes, I confess to him, "I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to fully forgive you." I open my eyes once more to look at Alexander in the eyes. His eyes roam my features, waiting for me to say more. "But," his face changes from despair to slight hope, "just for tonight, can we pretend as if our relationship is normal - like we're not too broken to fix."

"I'd like that a lot."

It's as if time stops and we have no cares in the world.


	12. A Welcomed Surprise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John and Alexander prove themselves as horny teenagers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTICE!!!!! THIS IS A NSFW CHAPTER. WHILE YOU MAY BE ABLE TO SKIP IT IF YOU CHOOSE, IT MAY PLAY A PART IN THE PLOT GOING FORWARD. YOU SHOULD BE OKAY AS LONG AS YOU KNOW THAT SOME NSFW CONTENT H A P P E N E D
> 
> something i learned about myself while writing this: for some reason smut doesn't fall under the restrictions of writer's block.

"Well don't you look just dashing," Alexander exclaims as I strut into the living room.

Surprisingly, Alexander was able to finish getting ready before I was. I find him lounging on one of the many sofas facing towards the television, which is playing a rerun of Property Brothers. It's only when the boy gets up to greet me that I can get a true look at his outfit.

Alexander's hair is slicked back into the same man bun as before, however, the flyaways that created a halo around his head before have been slicked down with a massive amount of product. His suit is a bold choice, to say the least. He wears a white suit shirt with his collars sticking up underneath a fully leather, maroon dress suit and bright white sneakers. He looks as if he moved a joint, he would sound like squeaking boots on a wet floor. However, he didn't make any noise when he walked over to me unless you count the sharp inhale I took in on site. The boy looked sexy, to say the least.

I plant a light peck on my cheek, making me blush ever so slightly.

He grins at me. "I'm glad you took my advice and wore what I gave you," he says, looking me up and down. "It suits you."

Even though I would never admit it, I'm glad I took his advice as well. I'm wearing a forest green turtleneck under a plain black blazer with loose black slacks and white dress shoes with cherry blossom designs lacing the toes. No tea no shade, but damn do I look good.

Instead of letting Alexander just kiss my cheek, I turn his head to face mine and lean down slightly to meet his lips. I grin as he melts into my kiss, and my hands move to his lower back, sometimes slipping to cup his cute ass "by accident." He grins as we kiss and lets his fingers run through my slicked back hair and intertwine behind my neck.

We break apart the kiss at the same time and we're both smiling as we do. I feel my face rise in temperature, indicating that I'm probably blushing like a madman. But that's okay because Alexander is crazy blushing too. He lets out a little chuckle that becomes contagious as we both end up laughing while holding each other in an embrace.

(NSFW STARTS HERE)

Our miniature cuddle session is cut short by Alexander's phone ringing. He only pulls away from me to pull his phone out of his back pocket and leans right back into my arms while on call. In the meantime, I play connect the dots, tracing lines between each of the tiny freckles littering his face. Alex has a hard time talking on the phone, trying not to giggle. After he hangs up, he punches me playfully in the shoulder while laughing the most adorable laugh I have ever heard. His cheeks heat up and so do mine.

In a weak attempt to be professional, Alex clears his throat and reports to me, "The chauffer just called saying that he's downstairs and we can meet him down there whenever we please."

I nod to him in understanding, planting a kiss on up and down his neck. I nibble and suck on a little spot on his Alexander's collarbone, making him let out the tiniest moan in my ear. That alone is enough to get me going. I leave one hand to cup the boy's face while the other starts making its way down to the growing bulge in Alexander's pants. I palm Alexander's bulge, applying light pressure, and in response, I hear the sexiest moan slip through the boy's mouth, sending a rush of shivers down my spine and blood straight to my growing erection. If I wasn't already turned on, I sure as hell am now. I let out a low groan of my own and it's as if my body loses and sense of restraint. Alexander jumps slightly and wraps his legs around my waist, and I move the both of us to the kitchen counter. The boy sits down on the counter; while he sits there, I leave a trail of chaste kisses up his neck all the way to his mouth, where we then kiss sloppily, his fingers running through my hair.

I bite his bottom lip, asking for entrance. Alexander puts up no fight against me and happily obliges. I slip my tongue into his mouth; he tastes like oranges and butterscotch (two flavors I never really care for that much, but because it's Alexander, they became all I craved). Still kissing the boy, I slip one hand into his underwear and start stroking his already throbbing cock while my other hand undoes the latch on his pants and, in one go, slides off both his boxers and dress pants.

The only time I ever break our kiss is when I sink to my knees, eyeing the hard, red dick in front of me. I move my hands to caress him, letting my thumb and pointer finger rub his tip while my other hand gently pump up and down on his shaft. The entire time, I maintain eye contact with Alexander. His once chocolate brown eyes have now darkened with lust and want, turning them almost black and pupils completely dilated. As soon as my fingers touch his tip, his whole body shudders with pleasure. I groan and inhale sharply just from watching the boy in front of me.

If my movement wasn't as slow and sultry as it is, Alexander would have cum minutes ago. However, I make sure that he doesn't. By the amount of panting and needy whining coming from his mouth, I know is close. Once I can feel it becoming too much for him, I stop touching his cock, taking my hands off. Alexander squirms on the counter, letting out horny and needy moans. I ignore the ever-hardening problem in my pants and put all my focus on Alexander. Seeing him all hot and needy like this because of me is enough thanks; all I want to do now is please him.

I then move my hands and rub my hands along his inner thigh, pressing in towards his dick, but still not touching it. Alexander's voice hitches and moans out, "Just fucking touch me."

To be honest, I might have cum then and there just by looking at his face. His cheeks are bright red, little beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His mouth hangs open, taking in short breaths and letting out horny noises that are a combination of sexy whining, moaning, and the repetition of "Holy shit, fuck me."

As said before, I want to pleasure myself in front of him (or better yet, let him finish me off), but I'm too selfish for that. All restraints and restrictions have been thrown out the window. All I want is for Alexander to beg for me to take him.

Keeping one hand in his thigh, I use the other to hush him by touching a finger to his lips. Immediately, he tries to keep himself quiet by biting down on his bottom and goddamn that is a good look on him. I swirl my index finger along the opening between his lips and he immediately starts sucking it and licking up and down. He only stops when I whisper in a low, groaning voice next to his ear, "Keep it up and I will end up taking you right here, right now."

His eyes widen but stare right into mine. Completely serious, he says back, "Then why don't you?"

Alexander says it more like a statement than a question. I put on a serious face.

"Because wasting you on the kitchen counter is far too informal." For a moment he looks disappointed. "Besides," I continue, a sly grin creeping it's way onto my face, "The outcome is going to be the same." I move my finger in his mouth back down to his groin and, I stroke his cock once again. Alexander shudders with pleasure a the feeling once again. "By the end you'll be begging me for mercy, begging to cum."

Once again, I remove my hands from his dick, but instead of leaving him without my touch, I sink back down to my knees and slowly lick his tip. The sudden feeling of my hot mouth on his throbbing cock must have been a lot for Alexander, because to my utmost surprise and delight, Alexander lets out the hottest moan I've heard out of him this entire night. His cock is forever leaking with precum, and as he goes deeper and deeper into my mouth, I can feel it running down the back of my throat (not that it's an unwelcomed feeling). I start slowly, bobbing my head up and down to an imaginary beat, continually working his dick deeper and deeper into my throat. I can tell the boy in front of me is enjoying every second of this through his loud moans every time his throbbing, dripping cock hits the back of my throat.

Alexander tries to speed up my slow process by trying to thrust his hips and dick farther into my throat, but because he's sitting upright, he's unable to do so, rendering him helpless to my touch. I take my mouth of his aching cock and instead only tease him by drawing circles around his tip with my fingers. He's whining and panting as if he's in pain, but we both know it's the exact opposite of pain causing his need. I stand up and lean over to the side of his face, still rubbing his needy tip. I nibble on his earlobe before whispering, "Stop trying to rush me or you'll have to finish yourself on your own. Okay?" Alexander rapidly nods his head. "Good, because I don't want to leave my baby boy alone like this when he looks so pretty."

Once again, I sink down to the floor, but this time, I usher the flustered boy on the counter to stand up. As Alexander does, I stroke his dick before taking it back into my mouth like before. Alexander almost collapses at my touch, grabbing my head and shoulders for support. Soon, I start moving my hands from his hips to his round ass all the way to his red, clenching asshole. Alexander's knees are close to giving out as I start circling his rim.

The last thing I want to happen is for Alexander to fall and hurt myself, so I pick him up bridal style and carry him to the couch where I lay him down on his back and carry on what we were doing before. This way I can also get a better look at his face.

I take two fingers from off his ass and put them in my mouth, taking some of my spit as well as his precum. From there, I move my fingers back to his ass, sticking only one finger in slowly. Alexander closes his eyes and lets out a sultry moan while curling his toes in response. My fingers and mouth work in unison and in rhythm, moving my fingers and mouth up and down in time, curling my fingers on his prostate the same time my tongue brushes his tip. I keep picking up the pace and with no warning other than a prolonged groan, Alexander finishes in my mouth. Slowly, I pull out my fingers and Alexander pulls out from my mouth. He's as out of breath as I am, but he's definitely more flustered than I am. I run back to the kitchen to fetch his discarded pants and boxers before saying to him, "Get ready again while I take care of this problem," I say, gesturing to the bulge of my own throbbing dick clearly visible in my pants. I've deprived it of attention for too long. "Then we can go to the ball."

Alexander only nods in response, and I'm halfway down the hall already when he says, "Thank you for that, John."

It is only now that I truly blush and say, "No Alexander, thank you." Then I continue to the bathroom to finish myself off, thoughts of Alexander taking over everything single thought swirling around in my brain.

(NSFW ENDS HERE)

I emerge once again from the bathroom and walk into the living room to see Alexander waiting for me on the couch we both just sat on. He cleaned up so well that you would never be able to tell anything about what just happened. The only hint he had was only noticeable to me: the flushed pink cheeks he gains while being pleasured. It's a sight that I hope I'm the only one who will ever see.

"Ready to go?" I ask him, grinning softly.

Alexander mirrors my grin almost immediately. "I would think that you'd know that I'm always ready." He hands me something from behind his back: a white mask that covers half of my face with cherry blossom embroidery and vines littering the sides.

I slip the mask onto my face, and he does the same. We link arms while walking out of the penthouse, continuing what seems to be the most eventful night of my so far uneventful life.

A sinking feeling churns in my gut, telling me to not get in that car and go to that party, but I guess it's too late now.

Isn't it?


End file.
